Family Time
by united states of fail
Summary: A battle over the remote leads to the second Fall...


A/N: I don't own the Bible nor the characters thereof; nor Deadliest Warrior, nor Frasier, nor Seventh Heaven, nor IFC, and I sure as hell do not own Full House. Feel free to review and leave writing tips (especially for the end, which I'm immensely dissatisfied with). Yup. Without further ado, it is my great and unending pleasure to present:

_Family Time,_

Or: Home is a nice place to visit, but no one wants to live there...

Gabriel rolled his eyes in exasperation as he listened his brothers argue. It was the same argument they'd had every night of the week for the last 80 years, and every night, it ended the same: Michael screaming at the top of his lungs at everyone, Uriel alternately sobbing and threatening to smote the others, Raphael trying to compromise with all of them, and Gabriel calmly reading The New Yorker. Not that he minded an opportunity to sit and read; he just preferred to do it without listening to his siblings alternately cajoling and threatening one another. It wasn't even that big of a deal, and it should have been worked out nearly a century ago. However, the times never ceased to change, and each time they did, the argument would start anew. And they could never, ever reach some sort of compromise. Something to do with God having a thing for opposites and how they clash oh so horribly. He ducked to the side as Uriel attempted to smote Michael and missed by about three feet. The wall behind him instantly fell as it was cut off from the Presence of the Lord ™, and found itself suddenly standing in the mausoleum of Dis, listening to increasingly insipid music that, if it actually had ears, it would have torn off to escape. Lucifer, who had just been leaving, was nearly crushed by this new addition. Mildly irked, he quickly Ascended to Heaven, newly demonic wall in tow.

"What is this?"

"SPARTA!"

"Michael, shut up. It's a wall, Lucifer, and might I add, what do you think you're doing here?"

"Why hello, Gabriel. How nice to see you again. How are you?"

"Fine. You still didn't say what you were doing here."

"Lucifer, hello! Great to see you! Would anyone like some tea? Oh, and I should have some biscuits around here somewhere-"

"Raphael! Stop offering him tea. Tea's too good for the likes of _him-_"

"I smote you once before

Then cast you into the depths

Back to whence ye came."

"Uriel, just because you're the archangel of poetry doesn't mean every time you open your mouth you have to spout of some sort of sonnet-"

"That was a haiku

You uncultured swine

You are rather dumb."

The inevitable beat down this incited was only prevented by Raphael returning with the tea, and apologizing profusely for having eaten all the biscuits. Accepting the tea and sipping it demurely, Lucifer and Gabriel sat across from one another, each examine the other in silence while Raphael lectured the others on the importance of talking through problems rather than resorting to physical violence, and also that it was just as important not to be condescending while talking through said problems least they grow worse and lead to physical violence.

It was Lucifer who broke the silence first. "Do you think Heaven would be better off with less testosterone?"

Michael shrugged. "Not particularly. Women are just as catty and prone to petty arguments as men, if not more so."

"Speaking of, how did that wall wind up in Dis? Damn thing nearly crushed me."

"Eh. You know, one TV, four archangels, and no one wants to watch the same thing. Michael wants to watch Deadliest Warrior, Raphael wants Seventh Heaven or Full House, Uriel wants whatever's on IFC at the moment, and should I ever get the remote, I'm subjecting them to a Frasier marathon."

"But...wait. Seventh Heaven, Full House, and Frasier have all been off the air for years. Couldn't you just buy them on DVD and watch them some other time?"

Gabriel sighed. "You'd think that, wouldn't you? But no, Metatron rented a bunch of public speaking tapes a couple of decades back, and lost them. We've now been banned en masse from all video stores."

"Decades?"

"Decades."

"Dayuuum."

"And besides, that still leaves the matter of Uriel and Michael. One's blade happy, and the other's smite happy. I can just see one or both of them getting felled for destroying half of Heaven in a Battle Royale over the remote control."

"Are you sure _this_ isn't Hell? I mean, really. One television for all the archangels, constant danger of getting smote in the crossfire, even more constant danger from the possibility that you might tick Him off at any given moment and find yourself in Hell...you know, for a loving God, he sure is vindictive."

" Yes, well, he's a loving God, and slow to anger, but once you get him there, you're very, very much screwed."

"But really? Damning people to burn for all eternity for eating fruit?"

"Ya know, I've always kind of wondered about that," Michael admitted as he, Uriel and Raphael finished expressing their feelings in a healthy, productive manner*. Raphael shushed him quickly, looking around in fear. "Michael, dear, please. What if someone heard you?"

"Besides," Gabriel injected as he sipped more of his tea, "it's ineffable. He gave people the choice to go either way, and they obviously chose wrong. It's not as if he _made_ them pick the fruit and _forced _it down their throats."

"Wait a moment though.

Isn't He omnipotent?

He knew what they'd do."

Gabriel groaned. "Uriel, not you too. See, Lucifer? Look what you've done. Now we're all going to fall, and it's going to be all _your_ fault-"

"Everything always is."

"-and we're going to wind up in Hell. Do you really think Raphael can make it in Hell? He'll be sitting there, trying to hold tea parties with Beelzebub and Asmodius and trying to feed the Hell hound biscuits. Do you really want his disenchanting on your head?"

"Do you really want to spend all eternity in servitude to some jerk who you love because you're scared not to? I've created abusive relationships around less than that, you know."

"We aren't scared of him," Gabriel firmly stated. "Are we, guys?"

"Um...well...I mean, um..."

"Er...you see, dear, the truth of the matter is..."

"Though I don't fear much

I must admit the truth:

He's kind of scary."

Lucifer smiled slightly and shrugged. "See? Our brothers have no problem admitting it. Just because you're the messenger doesn't mean you can't show emotion every once in a while. Besides, everyone else has already admitted to being slightly freaked out by the Big Guy, so you admitting it as well can't make the situation any worse, now can it?"

"Um, yes, because I _don't want to fall._"

"But if they all fall, you'll be up here alone. By yourself. For eternity. Think of how lonely you'll be."

With a flash, a thought occurred to Michael, and he struggled not to smile himself. "I would be alone, wouldn't I?"

"For all eternity."

"You know, guys, if you're uncomfortable, I'm quite sure you should take it up with him. You know, talk things over, see if some sort of compromise can't be reached. I'm sure he'll understand."

"Yes, dear! What a swell idea! Let's pop over there now, before supper! Maybe He'd like to join us tonight!"

"Yeah, and while we're there, I can run my new Turbo Grenade Launcher idea by him!"

"I can show the Lord

my latest advances in

music and song! Yay!"

"Thanks for the great idea, Lucifer! See you guys in a few!"

The two of them stood there, watching as their brothers happily made their way to the Celestial Palace. "Aren't you going to go with them?" Lucifer asked, mentally counting down exactly how long it would take before the three of them were added to his torture chambers.

"Nah. I think I'm going to sit here and watch some Frasier reruns."

"... you're going to let your brothers fall so that you can have the television to yourself."

"It certainly looks that way, doesn't it?"

"Seems an awful lot like greed to me."

With that, a trapdoor promptly opened beneath him, and he plunged out of sight.

With a smirk, Satan followed him, contemplating the design for a new level of Hell. One he would dedicate entirely to his brothers.

*It involved making a list of the things they liked about one another, and then hugging their feelings out. It worked on both of them in that each hated it so much, they'd do get along just to avoid having to do it.


End file.
